


Beautiful Kind of Pain

by Shaye



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2015-06-07
Packaged: 2018-04-03 06:21:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4090267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shaye/pseuds/Shaye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It happens slowly at first. A glimmer here, a shimmer there. Then it builds. It's triggered by a smell. A sight. A noise. Before long it becomes unbearable. A feeling raw and real, her perfect storm." This is a different take on Katniss' emotional turmoil and torture while Peeta was held in the Capitol. Everlark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beautiful Kind of Pain

It happens slowly at first. A glimmer here, a shimmer there. Then it builds. It’s triggered by a smell. A sight. A noise. Before long it becomes unbearable. A feeling raw and real, her perfect storm. It’s pleasure derived from pain and pain derived from pleasure. She waits for it to end and yet never wants it to stop. It’s the Capitol, it’s Coin, it’s Snow. It’s the Games, it’s the Mockingjay, it’s the Victors. It’s her mind forcing her into an endless loop of torture- one she takes both willingly and obstinately. It’s her heaven and hell. Simply put, it’s love…her love.

 

“Peeta, will you stay with me?” She pleads as the nightmare rages on and her screaming startles him awake. He nods silently, walking over to her small bed and cradling her in his strong arms. For a moment she is safe. She’s safe to love, to dream, to sleep. But all too soon he’s vanished as if he was never there. Her tears stain the thin, worn pillow as she cries late into the night. She wants to call for Prim and yet knows she can’t- her sister’s working at the hospital tonight, training diligently and with the loving care that marks her very core. There’s no savior coming tonight.

 

* * *

She’s tired and weary, having tossed and turned nightly, but picks herself up. She finally eats some of the tasteless military grub and stops fighting the routine. She finds warmth in Gale’s arms but he’s no match for the boy with the bread; she can’t bring herself to love him even if they share a history, even if loving Gale would be the easier choice. The truth is that she never had a choice, not really. “I never wanted to be in the Games.” Katniss repeats this once, twice, three times before she remembers that she did not ask to kill or be killed. 

 

“I know you didn’t,” Peeta whispers as the stale air ruffles her jagged, black hair. 

 

“So many people. I killed so many people,” she lets out little puffs of air, her olive skin covered in goosebumps as she trembles with regret. 

 

“Shh, it’s okay.” His voice shifts, traveling only to her ears. “I’ve got you.”

 

* * *

 

A week passes before Katniss surrenders herself to the lovely illusions once more. She runs down the corridors shouting his name, her eyes blurred red. “Peeta!” In the distance she hears someone call her name and when she doesn’t respond, the same voice calls for psychiatrics. Banging on the walls, she pleads with Snow to let him go. 

 

“Don’t you see him?” Snow taunts, turning his head to view the image before them. Peeta is strapped down and tortured as the electric shocks rip through his thinning body. Snow laughs while turning a white rose in his gloved hand. 

 

“Peeta!” she slams her hands on the wall as she watches him shake violently. 

 

“Katniss? Are you there?” His upper body is carefully tied down but he manages to lift his head slightly. “Won’t you help me?” he cries, his face gaunt and every muscle in his body straining. 

 

“You’re failing him,” Snow reaches out to run his hand over her mockingjay pin. “For you, Miss Everdeen,” he says while presenting her with the glistening rose. Her hand reaches blindly for the offending flower but is stung as it grabs the stem. 

 

“She’ll be out for a while.” The world is fading and for once Katniss willingly falls into the lure of dangerously impaired senses.

 

* * *

 

“Stay,” his whisper is strained, tears streaking through his blood-caked face.

 

“Okay,” she scoots closer to him. “I’ll stay.” She waits for him to fall asleep before she shifts to look at his face. From her place on his chest she sees the relaxed nature of his jaw and the way his mouth crinkles lightly in his sleep. She sees the smoothness of his brows and moves to touch them only to frown in disappointment when they scrunch tightly, his face becoming unbelievably taunt. Noticing the heavy set of his jaw, she ghosts her hand over his mouth, urging his lips to relax. He startles and winces in pain so she moves to wake him up, to bring him out of his nightmare. Only he doesn’t wake and every place she touches becomes pinched in agony. It is then that she realizes she’s causing him the pain. Her touch and her presence is hurting him. Not the Capitol or the War or the Games. Nothing but her. 

 

“She’s figured out how Snow’s using Peeta.” The world she created fades away and all that’s left is the sound of Finnick Odair and the destruction that has become her life…their life.

 

* * *

 

Weeks pass and Katniss slips further. She is no longer the Girl on Fire or the Mockingjay, the Hunter or the Volunteer. She is dead to the world, still walking and talking, but just as gone as her mother. 

 

_“You could live a hundred lifetimes and never deserve that boy.”_

 

_“It takes ten times as long to put yourself back together than it does to fall apart.”_

 

_“You’re still in the games.”_

 

_“I drag myself out of nightmares each morning and find there's no relief in waking.”_

 

_“Two brave young people, against all odds chose to die rather than lose each other.”_

 

_“If I’m going to die, I want to still be me.”_

 

_“This trip does’t end when you get back home.”_

 

_“Image thousands upon thousands of your people dead. Your loved ones- gone.”_

 

_“Because I’m in pain. That’s the only way I can get your attention.”_

 

_“I’m still betting on you.”_

 

_“It’s the things we love most, that destroy us.”_

 

Falling. She’s falling. The world is spinning and her mind is going right along with it. Too many people gone, lost, buried. Too many people surrounding, watching, judging. And most painful of all is a void never to be filled by anyone else. The one person she wants, needs, chooses. The one she doesn’t deserve and yet he always stands dutifully by her side. She really is broken. Done fighting. Lost to her own little world. Because hope is a fragile thing and love even more so. She’s lost him and she’s lost herself. She fought weakness and feeling but fell anyway, fell in love, allowed herself to see a future, and now she’s in pain. But it’s a beautiful kind of pain. One never to be remedied unless he returns and she does too. Unless they make it out and find each other once more. Yes, it’s a beautiful kind of pain indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading...I hope I did her pain and heartache justice.  
> (Cross-Listed on FF.Net)


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